Disclaimer: I'm so damn broke, I do not own anything except the original story here.

Inspired by Runaway by Kanye West.


Alex was at Joe's sitting at the bar, pity invading him. He was trying to drown his thoughts with glass after glass of whiskey. His thoughts were screaming at him, they were telling him how much of a douchebag, jerk, asshole and scumbag he really was.

Every time he had something good going on in his life he always had to fuck it up, every relationship he ever had. Some way or an other he always find the way to crush all the hope he ever even had for a chance of something good working.

One of the two things he regretted the most was what he did to Meredith. Although things seemed to go back to normal, he always felt like something was missing. It didn't fit like it used to. Just like when you break a vase and you try to glue it back together, all the pieces stand together but it just not the same.

The other thing he regretted the most was what happened between him and April. Granted they never really had any kind of a relationship to start with. But all the chances he ever had went through the window the night he almost...he still couldn't face it. He never ever wants to think about it.

And even now, he still is a total jackass to her. He was a total first class asshole. He realized that she grew under his skin, she was all around him. She was so damn close but he couldn't bring himself to get to her, if she would ever let him that is. Something is telling him that she could've been the best thing that ever happen to him but he made sure to screw that up too.

And now she barely ever talked to him unless if it was necessary. Maybe it was for the best. He could handle being in pain, he was born in it. But he didn't think he could handle bringing her down with him.

Alex turned to the sound of her laughter. She was sitting at a booth between Lexie and Jackson. Her body leaning more toward Avery, who naturally wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

Alex tightened the muscles of his jaw. It was really his damn fault anyway. It really was all on him. He turned back toward the bar signaling at Joe to get him an other glass of whiskey. He might just ask him to leave the bottle.

He couldn't blame anybody but himself for the misery he was in.

Fin


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